"It's you, Miller!" The instant Talos heard that voice, every muscle in his body tensed, and veins bulged across the back of his axe-gripping hand.
He knew that shrill, grating voice all too well-Miller, a direct descendant of the Antler Clan of Hell's Spirit Rock Prefecture, his sworn enemy from the neighboring prefecture.
Territorial disputes between their clans had dragged on for countless tens of thousands of years. He and this fellow had fought dozens of times on all sorts of occasions, going at each other's throats whenever they met. They had never coexisted peacefully.
"Heh, fancy meeting you here, you stupid ox." Miller stepped out of the shadows above the Gemstone Vein.
He was tall and thin, with a pair of twisted, spiraling antelope horns on his head, their tips gleaming with a cold, dark green light.
His narrow eyes were slightly narrowed, and his lips wore that contemptuous smile that infuriated Talos on sight.
Three others followed behind him, looking down on the three below from high atop the vein.
"What, a distinguished Seven-Star Devil working as someone's bodyguard? Didn't you always look down on those fellows who guarded clan scions? And now you've taken up the job yourself?"
"You! How dare you insult my lord!" Talos's eyes widened in fury.
"What did you say? My lord?" Miller froze, then threw back his head and let out a burst of piercing laughter, as though he had heard the funniest joke of his life. "Hahahahaha-he actually called a Middle God his lord! Oh, Talos, Talos, I never thought you'd throw away even your Iron Hoof Clan's honor! Doesn't your clan claim you'd rather die than submit? How did you end up becoming a Middle God's dog?" He rocked with laughter, bending over and slapping his thigh.
His three companions